


Close Quarters

by DaydreamNightmare



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, like i'd say it's fluff, oh noes we end up much closer than we thought we were, oh noes we must share living space, some allusions to minds being in gutters and some swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 12:16:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3208817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaydreamNightmare/pseuds/DaydreamNightmare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(He definitely did not sleep in his pants before, and if she knows that only because she knows how long it took him to get ready for bed before, vs how long it takes him to do that now, well... That's her business.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close Quarters

**Author's Note:**

> I have an exam today. Pray that I don't fail?
> 
> Slightly disjointed as usual, with no real plot. Enjoy!

They share a tent. 

It's easier this way, more practical, Clarke rationalizes (to Bellamy, Octavia, the rest of the Camp that follows their every movement wide-eyed, and most of all to herself). They already spend indescribable amounts of time together, as leaders of the Camp, of course, and there's really no need for Clarke to occupy a tent someone else could use, or a tent which could be turned into a new addition to Med Bay, or a storage or whatever.

It's not even that big of a deal. She wishes people would stop staring at her all the time when she exits the tent. And enters it. 

And is generally in the nearer vicinity of Bellamy Blake, which is always, because at this point they're practically attached to one another. 

(''I'll say,'' Octavia would grin wildly at this point. ''And in more ways than one.'')

(''Shut up,'' Clarke would roll her eyes and then spend the rest of the day reigning in her brain.)

(She's not thinking about it.)

(She's  _not_ .)

They hang a sheet in the middle of the tent to allow each other some privacy, although privacy is a relative thing when the sheet is practically translucent and Clarke will never forget the first time she's turned to look at the sheet and caught the shadow of Bellamy Blake stripping.

(She's pretty certain, at that point, that he sleeps naked.)

(She is  _not_ thinking about it.)

(And she definitely doesn't have problems falling asleep that night.)

~~

She is desperate is her only conclusion.

~~

They share a room, eventually. 

It happens after they stumble ,more times than either one of them wants to admit, into the sheet dividing the tent into two parts, two rooms, and nearly kill themselves, whether it be by falling down, or getting so tangled up in it that they choke themselves.

(''How on Earth did you manage to do that, Princess?'' ''Shut up.'')

When one day Clarke turns to run out the tent because Octavia is screaming out her name, and something about Jasper having broken his leg, and stumbles through the sheet, falls down and nearly fractures her jaw, she is willing to rethink the whole 'we need privacy thing'. 

Privacy is way overrated anyway, and Camp Jaha seems to be less in a matchmaking mood when Clarke stalks the grounds of it with an angry black bruise spanning across her entire cheek and right side of the jaw. 

(It's not that Clarke is very much willing to rethink the idea, she admits to herself in the dead of the night, when her only company is the throbbing of her jaw and Bellamy's soft snores. It's more that when Bellamy sees her upon returning from hunting, he nearly has a heart attack, and when she tells him what happened, he stalks off into the tent and rips the thing off, throwing the remains of the sheet out.)

(But whatever. She's definitely not thinking about his fingers ghosting over her jaw.)

If she thought the sheet failed to provide any real privacy, Clarke is nearly choking with the lack of it now. It takes time to adjust to the fact that there is now nothing between them, and it definitely takes time to adjust to all the times they walk in on each other. 

(She's pretty certain that at this point, the only ones who have seen so much of her skin are probably her parents, Finn, and Bellamy.)

After a while, though, it wears off. They learn to announce themselves and not rush inside the tent at all times of the day like madmen, and it's easier to bear.

(She notices he now sleeps in his pants.)

(He definitely did not sleep in his pants before, and if she knows that only because she knows how long it took him to get ready for bed before, vs how long it takes him to do that now, well... That's her business.)

~~

Raven would say, and she quotes from one of their earlier conversations, ''you're thirsty as fuck, Clarke.''

~~

Is she surprised they end up sharing a bed?

Not in the least, because she has the absolute worst luck in the entire Universe.

It.

Is.

Torture.

Some background: in case anyone ever asked, Clarke would tell them that what she hates most of all on Earth is the winter. 

Mountain Men? Eh.

Reapers? Blah.

Long, dark, excruciatingly cold nights that put the chill deep into her bones? Yeah, fuck that. 

Fuck it hard. 

No one expected winter to hit them so hard, but it did, and here they are. Days are somewhat bearable, because there's always a lot of activity, and nearly the whole Camp is full of fire, and the Grounders have provided them with coats that help keep off the bite of the unrelenting wind. 

During the night, however, which comes about mid-afternoon, all the furs in the world can't help, Clarke thinks. 

Most of the Camp has relocated into the Ark, preferring cold metal over just  _cold_ , but she and Bellamy don't have that luxury because at any given moment the Grounders could call, at any given moment, someone might get hurt, and they need the ease of access. 

Which is why they remain in their tent near both to the gate and to Med Bay, and why Clarke nearly dies from the cold air coming in from all sides of the tent.

(It's stupid, it's so fucking stupid, and it's literally just stupid fabric and why was she stupid enough to hope that this would somehow help against the cold wind, why, why,  _why_ .)

Her teeth chatter throughout the entire night, and it's so cold she feels it in her soul. She doesn't get sick though, and she figures the furs are doing some of their jobs. 

She rationalizes that, as long as she's alive, things are good.

(She can't lie to herself all the time.)

One night, when temperature definitely drop quite a ways away below zero, and her nose physically hurts from inhaling the cold air, and her teeth chatter so loudly she thinks she might wake up half the camp, or break them, her furs are violently pulled away from her body and she squeals in a high pitch. 

''What the actual fuck, Bellamy?'' she blurts out, wrapping her arms around herself hurriedly and rubbing down her shoulders. She wear layers upon layers when going to bed, but if she's not moving, they're not of much help.

''Get up, we're sleeping together,'' he says brusquely and for a moment she stares dumbly at him. He rolls his eyes, but she can still see him fight a self-satisfied smirk. ''Get your mind out of the gutter, Princess. It's fucking cold as fuck, in case you haven't noticed, and I figure we'll be warmer if we share a bed and between all the furs combined together we might even make it through the night without you chattering out the national anthem.''

She huffs as her cheeks warm up abut after a short consideration has to admit that maybe he has a point. 

(Besides, his furs look so inviting.)

(Everything about Bellamy looks so inviting, but she is  _not_ thinking about that.)

(Jesus Christ, Clarke.)

She scurries over to his bad and tries to stifle the moan when she lies down on it and it's  _the_ most comfortable things she's ever been on. 

''Jesus, how on Earth did you get such a comfortable bed?'' she asks in a strained voice as her muscles relax and he smirks. 

''Whatever the hell I want, Princess,'' he says smugly. ''I took it. Now move over.''

He's suddenly next to her and has rearranged the furs over them, so in total they're covered with five large furs and...

And Clarke feels her shivers calming.

She sighs happily into the pillow as only the occasional tremor passes through her body. 

~~

''You know, we'd be even warmer if we took our clothes off.''

''Yeah, that's not... That's not happening.''

''Just saying. You, as a medical professional should know-''

''I'm quite aware of that.'' 

.

.

.

''So, you wanna think about getting rid of a shirt or five?''

''I swear, I'll hog all the furs if you don't shut up now.''

''Jesus. Touchy, Princess.''

~~

Bellamy Blake is a hardcore snuggler, and Clarke finds that out the first night she sleeps in his bed. She wakes up with his arms around her, one of his legs between the two of hers and his nose in her hair. 

(She does not find this comfortable.)

(At all.)

(And this wasn't the best night's sleep she's gotten since they crashed down on this stupid planet.)

(Nope.)

(Not thinking about it.)

But he's there and he's all wrapped up around her, and she feels oh-so-warm and it's just... It's just so nice. She likes this feeling. She might get used to this feeling, whispers the traitorous bit of her brain, the one that doesn't restrain its thoughts on the subject of Bellamy Blake. 

(Okay, she might be thinking about it.)

~~

And if she's ever thought being woken up by Bellamy's boner pressing into her ass was mortifying, which it stopped being after about a month or so, she knows now that it's not, because Octavia has just walked in on them and her eyes are as wide as saucers.

''Oh my God!'' he shriek hurts Clarke's ears, but thankfully so much blood is thudding through them that it lessens the blow.

''Octavia, it's not-''

''Are you two fucking? Oh my- My eyes- Oh, G- JASP-''

''Octavia, shut up!''

''We're just sharing the bed to- to keep warm, O.''

''Is that why you're naked?''

Well. 

No arguing that. 

''It's... It's more effective...?''

''Oh my God!''

She runs out of the tent and Bellamy stifles a laughter into Clarke's shoulder, and Clarke's cheeks are  _this close_ to spontaneously combusting.

(Not even Bellamy kissing a trail from her shoulder to her lips can help.)

(Nope.)

(Not a bit.)

(Okay, maybe just slightly.)

~~

(She's definitely thinking about it now.)

(Whatever.)

(It's no one's business but hers.)

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Love it? Hate it? The standard speech somewhat guilt-tripping you into commenting? Hopefully it works! Tell me what you think!


End file.
